


heart on your cheek (leave him wanting more)

by words-writ-in-starlight (Gunmetal_Crown)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: ...sort of, M/M, Misunderstandings, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:36:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12782088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gunmetal_Crown/pseuds/words-writ-in-starlight
Summary: Kravitz wants to go on another date.  Taako severely misunderstands the nature of Kravitz's interest in him.  There are some mutually damaged feelings before they sort themselves out.





	heart on your cheek (leave him wanting more)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThoseWhoFavorFire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoseWhoFavorFire/gifts).



> Hey, y'all, I'm alive. For a while there I was really nailing the regular posting schedule, huh?
> 
> It's been a long couple of months for a lot of reasons and I'm currently planning on moving next week, but I passionately love TAZ and have listened to all of it over the last month and a half or so, and as such here is a fic that was requested on Tumblr but got really long. I came out of this fic with a small flotilla of headcanons about everyone's favorite Grim Reaper.
> 
> This fic is wildly unbeta'd and I wrote over half of it at 2 AM, so please have a generous heart about any mistakes.

Here is a list of the shit Taako has learned about the Grim Reaper since threatening to execute some tentacle porn on the man—being?—several months ago:

  1. The accent?   He’s not sure why Kravitz feels the need to have a business accent, since his normal voice is soft and charming, but sure, dude, some people have train names.
  2. His hands are cold because Kravitz is dead. This feels like it should have been obvious. 
  3. Kind of a dork? It’s strange to equate the shy politeness with the same person who spent a good minute and a half shouting about Merle’s death bounty.
  4. Likes red wine, can’t get drunk, which seems like a shitty deal.



Taako is considering adding more information to that list, starting with _a fucking loser_ and moving on from there, because Kravitz just spent solidly five minutes trying to articulate a sentence over the link between their Stones.

“Hang on, bubbe, let me take a stab at this,” Taako interrupts, and Kravitz falls silent.  “Drinks at the Chug and Squeeze again?  Say, nine o’ clock moon time?”

“Yes,” Kravitz says, relieved.  “That sounds wonderful.”

“Sure about that?” Taako drawls.  “That was like pulling teeth.”

Kravitz laughs a little bit— _nice laugh_ , another fact for the list.  “I—well, most people are pretty glad to see me go.”

“I’m sure they are, handsome, it’s a pleasure to watch you go.”  Kravitz makes a faint choking noise and Taako snickers, which might be a little mean, but also, Taako doesn’t care.  Taako carefully draws a brush full of silver-green polish across his thumbnail and cocks his head at the Stone of Farspeech.  “We haven’t died any times that I’m not aware of, right?  This isn’t a business thing or whatever?”

“Uh, no,” Kravitz says, stumbling over the words.  “I was—it was—I was thinking maybe a date.”

Taako grins.  Winding Kravitz up is probably cruel, but it’s so _eminently_ gratifying.  “I’d take you somewhere nicer for our third date, but there ain’t a lot of options on the moon, y’know?  I guess we could go to Fantasy Costco and you could see how you do against Garfield--”

“ _Third_ date?”

“Sure, keep up.”  Taako counts them off on his fingers, unnecessary but amusing.  “The lab, the Chug and Squeeze, and tonight.  Hey, if you count the night after Refuge separately I guess this is four.”

“The lab—Taako, I was under orders to hunt you down and _execute_ you in the lab.”

“I dunno, homie, kinky tentacle shit generally counts as a date.  I’ll see you tonight, dress nice, okay-peace-bye.”  And Taako severs the connection while Kravitz is still stammering through the start of his response.

Taako keeps snickering the whole time he finishes painting his nails, because the alternative is to chew on his lips and wonder what the fuck he’s doing.  At least the familiar detail work keeps his hands steady.

Kravitz is nice, is the thing.  _Nice_ , fuck, Taako’s never really… _nice_ isn’t really Taako’s type, see, because Taako’s a lot of things and _nice_ isn’t one of them.  Taako _breaks_ nice people.  Like Glamour Springs.  It wasn’t his fault.  It was all his fault.  _You fed them their death_.  

Hell, Kravtiz has his big book of badness, shouldn’t he know that Taako’s a—an accessory to mass murder? 

And for all his grim work— _grim_ work, ha, Taako’s cracking himself up—Kravitz is nice, and gentle, and sweet.  He does things like sit with shell-shocked elves after time loops and laugh at little acts of rebellion and splutter when Taako hits on him, and honestly Taako doesn’t really get his logic.  Taako is the bomb diggity, of course, but Taako’s also rude and prickly and downright _mean_ sometimes and that’s not the kind of person that matches up with Kravitz.  He doesn’t understand what Kravitz wants.  A date, sure.  Maybe even a fuck, or two, and Kravtiz’s magically constructed body is a pretty hot piece of ass so Taako would be fine with that.

But what the fuck else is Kravitz after?

Taako can hear Magnus’ voice in his head telling him that not everyone is after something, but just because Magnus is a big dumb lug who wears his big dumb heart on his big dumb sleeve doesn’t mean Magnus is _right_.

Everyone’s always after something, with Taako.

God, maybe Kravitz is just lonely.  For all that he’s a fine figure, in his suit and…well, his skin, when he’s wearing it, there can’t be that many people interested in chatting up an avatar of death, a vengeful emissary of the Raven Queen herself.  And it’s not like he can just go pick someone up at a bar, even if he had the free time—he’d still have to explain that cold skin, and that would need to be one hell of a bluff.

That thought makes Taako feel a little steadier.  His hands don’t shake when he puts away the nail polish and turns to his closet, which is strewn half across the floor because there’s honestly no _point_ in being a wizard if he can’t use it to keep his shit from wrinkling.

Right, then.  Lonely Grim Reaper.  Taako can deal with that.  Besides, Taako hasn’t gotten laid since before all this Bureau fuckery started—again, one _hell_ of a bluff to pick someone up in a bar, and it’s not like the moon is _that_ big—so he could stand to fuck a handsome semi-stranger in the Chug and Squeeze bathroom.

Or in his quarters, more likely.  Kravitz seems like ‘public sex’ is probably one of his hangups.

Whatever.

He and Kravitz can go out and drink and harass the pottery instructor, and then they can fuck, and it’ll probably be good because Kravitz just _screams_ ‘considerate in the sack’, and then they can both go their separate ways and get on with their goddamn lives.

Taako waits to feel the weight of anxiety lift from his chest, but instead it just settles into his gut, sullen and thick.  He shakes his head, trying to shake the feeling away, and settles down to picking out some clothes that will get him laid tonight.  His hair will be easy, a simple braid, something that will come undone in a rush if he needs it to—he considers putting it up, maybe something effortless like a messy bun, something that would show off his neck, but.  No.  Taako lets his hair fall from where he’s holding it, looking away from the mirror as something _kicks_ in his chest, like he’s seeing—like he’s missing—like he’s— _like_ —

The blue skirt will go well with his nails, he decides.

***

Kravitz shows up in the shared living room of the Reclaimer dorm at five minutes to nine, because Kravitz is a monster.  Taako had enough time to kill that he’s already set to go, but it’s the principle of the thing.  Who the hell is that punctual?

Well, Taako allows with a little smirk, Death, obviously.

“Hi,” Taako says, flicking his braid over his shoulder, and Kravitz looks up at him and smiles—fucking _beams_ , really, and Taako really needs to stop hanging out with so many horrifyingly genuine people.

“Hi,” Kravitz says, a little shy, tugging at his cuffs like his suit is real and not just a convenient manifestation of his power.  It’s a very sharp manifestation, though, Taako has to give him that, black and sleek with a pearly grey shirt and a dark red tie that makes him look a little livelier with its color.  “You look incredible.”

“Obviously,” Taako sniffs, stepping over to Kravitz and draping a hand over his shoulder, toying with one of the long dreadlocks at the nape of his neck.  “But really, my dude, so do you.  Do you even have to try to look this fine?”

“It, uh.”  Kravitz smiles down at him, the red glow behind his black eyes warm and cheerful.  Kravitz is tall, almost as tall as Magnus, and he has a whole head of height on Taako, but he doesn’t seem nearly as big like this as he does in his skeletal form.  “I’m happy to put in the effort for you.”

“Good answer.”  Taako gives the lock in his hand a light tug—hey, might as well start as he means to go on—and makes a point to stroke his fingers along the curve of Kravitz’s throat as he pulls his arm back.

Kravitz, of course, is incapable of blushing, because he’s dead.  But he looks like he might spontaneously develop the ability in order to cope.  It takes him a beat to offer Taako his arm—because Kravitz is a fucking gentleman—and allow himself to be pulled out of the apartment.

This is going to be a fucking walk in the park.

Drinks and pottery go very much the same, with quiet conversation and Taako taking every opportunity he can find to get his hands all over Kravitz.  It’s not a hardship.  And besides, Kravitz is really pretty funny, when he’s talking about things that aren’t his divine obligation to execute Taako and his—his coworkers.  Taako learns that Kravitz was a bard, and that he can’t help the way his eyes glow, and that he’s easy to embarrass. 

It’s been about an hour and the two of them have split most of a bottle of chardonnay when Taako sways over to Kravitz and rests his chin on the reaper’s shoulder, close enough that his breath stirs one of the dreadlocks closest to him.  His lips almost brush the shell of Kravitz’s ear—faintly pointed, enough to render Kravitz’s race firmly ambiguous.

“Hey, thug,” Taako murmurs, shamelessly enjoying the way he feels Kravitz stiffen against him in surprise.  “Do you want to get out of here?”

He lets his hand wander up Kravitz’s thigh, just in case his meaning was unclear.  Kravitz doesn’t take that as hard as Taako might have expected, but he also seems to have frozen in shock, so maybe the two cancel out.

“I—are you sure?”

There he goes again.  Being _nice_.  Taako almost grabs his dick in the middle of the room in revenge, but resists the petty impulse in a show of pure willpower.  He settles instead for tightening his grip on Kravitz’s leg, just hard enough to hurt a little.

“Do I not _seem_ sure?”

Kravitz laughs a little at that, and it’s that easy.  Kravitz lets Taako pull him outside and steal a kiss in the shadows of the quad—Kravitz’s lips aren’t quite cold, just…cool, room temperature, and it’s a little like touching solid water with the way they slide over Taako’s, and he can taste the wine and _power_.  Magic like nothing Taako can recall, except maybe for the way that the relics leave a crackle of something in the air after they’ve been used.  Kissing Kravitz is something like that, maybe, like breathing in air that’s had an enormous amount of energy put through it very recently, and when they separate and Kravitz looks a little rumpled, a little dazed, Taako feels a rush of smugness unlike anything in recent memory.

Once they’re back in the Reclaimer dorm—Magnus is still out hitting things with Carey and Killian, and Merle is god knows where doing god knows what—Taako doesn’t hesitate to crowd Kravitz up against the nearest wall and kiss him again.  More aggressively, this time, tangling his fingers in the cords of Kravitz’s dreadlocks and sighing into his mouth when those broad cool hands came up to rest on his back.  Taako catches Kravitz’s bottom lip in his teeth and bites down, not quite hard enough to do damage, and Kravitz makes a sound like a growl deep in his chest.  It vibrates against Taako’s ribs where they’re pressed together and the sharp jolt of _want_ takes him off guard for long enough to find himself pressed up against the wall in Kravitz’s place, with all of Kravtiz’s height caging him in, and it doesn’t feel like being trapped so much as being _wanted_.

It’s the first time that Taako wonders if he’s miscalculated, but then Kravitz lowers his lips down over Taako’s cheek and jaw to the side of his throat and the thought is wiped away like someone fed it to the voidfish.  Somehow Kravitz taking the initiative is a shock, as if Taako had expected him to be a novice at this without even realizing it, but he doesn’t seem lacking in experience and Taako is profoundly enjoying the benefits of it.

“Fuck,” Taako sighs as teeth scrape against his skin, tipping his head and pressing a thigh up between Kravitz’s legs.  He really should ask what Kravitz even is, if things like _elf_ and _human_ even apply to him, but whatever the fuck gives him teeth like that, sharp and even, is a-okay by Taako’s book. 

“Taako,” Kravitz says into the pulse at his throat as Taako’s hands busy themselves with the knot of his tie.  “If your friends come back and we’re out here, they’ll be unhappy.”

Oh, right, Taako lives with people now.  People who might possibly still want to hit Kravitz with a war hammer over some limbs or some shit like that.  It takes him a few moments to conclude that this is a sufficiently serious concern to justify moving, because the alternative—letting Kravitz fuck him against a wall in the next few minutes—seems _far_ more compelling.

“Merle’s never happy,” Taako says, and Kravitz pulls away to laugh as Taako sulks at him.  This time Taako really does grab his dick in revenge, reaches a hand between them and palms Kravitz through his pants, and the way the laughter turns into a hissing curse, a thoughtless push of his hips, is absolutely worth it.  “Fine,” Taako says, magnanimous, and reaches up to loop both arms around Kravitz’s neck.  “My door’s the second one.  You can do the work, handsome.”

Kravitz chuckles again and complies, lifting Taako apparently effortlessly, Taako’s legs coming up to wrap around Kravitz’s waist without regard for the indecent way it shoves his skirt up almost past his hips.

“Strong boy,” Taako muses, giving a teasing squeeze to one of Kravitz’s biceps as Kravitz shifts his weight so that he can catch the doorknob and open it.  Inside, Taako snaps his fingers absently to wake the spark of magic in his lamp, shedding bright light across the room at once.  He wants to see what it looked like, when one of the Raven Queen’s own elite comes undone in his bed.

“I execute necromancers, Taako,” Kravitz says with a small roll of his glowing eyes.  “I’m _very_ strong.”

“Mmm,” Taako hums, and when Kravitz tries to set him gently down on the bed, he twists his weight to trip Kravitz down beneath him. 

This, sitting on Kravitz’s lap and pressed up against him from hip to shoulder, is possibly even better than the wall, and Taako kisses Kravitz again as he starts working on the _layers_ of buttons in the suit.  It’s a production.

“Why do you wear so many fucking clothes,” Taako mutters against Kravitz’s lips as he finally manages to wrestle jacket, shirt, and braces off in one motion.

“Sorry,” Kravitz says, his hands—almost as warm as Taako’s skin, from contact—sliding up under Taako’s shirt, slowly, as if giving Taako a chance to pull away.  “Would you rather the cloak?”

“God, you’re such a fucking dramatic loser.”  Taako ends his statement with a firm grind of his hips, and whatever Kravitz was about to say dies unspoken, swallowed by a choked sound as he closes his eyes sharply and takes a deep breath.  His skin goes thin and transluscent over his cheekbones for a moment, the edges of a skull pressing through until he gets himself under control, and the high of that is palpable, better than anything else Taako’s ever tried, the high of having made a Reaper lose control with nothing but a twist of his hips. 

When Kravitz opens his eyes, they glitter, and he pulls Taako’s shirt off over his head, a clumsy tangle of fabric for a moment before the shirt is gone and Taako learns some interesting facts about himself, among them that, apparently, the temperature thing is a _Thing_.  He can almost _taste_ the spark that jumps to his core when he presses up against Kravitz’s bare chest, almost cold against Taako’s flushed skin.

Wow.  If he wasn’t hard before, he sure as hell is now.  That’s a thing that he didn’t see coming.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, almost gasps, like he needs air at all, against Taako’s shoulder, “I’ll need to get up to get my pants off.”

Taako considers just—just not moving, grinding down like this and kissing Kravitz until they’re both stupid with it, coming half-dressed like a pair of kids, but the appeal of seeing Kravitz naked is pretty strong too.  He kisses Kravitz again, wet and dirty and deep, before he slides off and abandons both his skirt and his underwear on the side of the bed.

Kravitz is beautiful, Taako thinks somewhat fuzzily as he watches him undress.  Like, Taako is beautiful too, don’t get him wrong, humility is for other people, but Kravitz knocks him out a little in a way that very few people can claim to have done.  It’s not just the symmetry of his angular face or the way his tendons line his hands or the perfect vee shape of the bones at his hips, it’s also that he has something _other_ about him, a statement worth making when you could hit a baker’s dozen races with a well-swung cat.

But that’s not to say that the muscles of his thighs and the motionless curve of his ribs and his cock don’t make Taako’s mouth water a little bit.  The latter, in particular.

Next time, Taako thinks idly as Kravitz kicks away his pants, Taako should put a little more planning into this, because he’d really enjoy having that inside him.  As it is, he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t last long enough.

The thought almost brings him up short.  Next time?  There’s not going to be a next time.  Taako already decided that.

“Are you all right?” Kravitz asks— _nice_ , even standing there completely naked, he’s still _nice_.

“Fine, babe, all fine,” Taako says, and holds out a hand.  “You planning to join me or what?”

Kravitz smiles and takes Taako’s hand and—fucking _save_ him—kisses the knuckles as he allows himself to be pulled down onto the bed.  Taako pins him down, and knows that Kravitz is letting him, and stops resisting the urge to rub up against the cool silk of Kravitz’s skin, until he’s breathing hard and rambling and Kravitz is barely breathing at all. 

“Taako,” Kravitz whispers, one hand coming up to tangle in Taako’s hair while the other reaches down to find their cocks, his hand big enough to wrap around them both easily, and if the cool touch of his skin was a shock against Taako’s chest, it’s a fucking _religious moment_ against Taako’s dick.  He doesn’t even try to hold back the yelp, and reaches down to weave his fingers through Kravitz when it seems like he’s going to pull away.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Taako hisses.

“Are you sure, I know--”

“Kravitz, I swear to fucking—fucking everyone, I’ll burn a spell slot on your ass right now if you stop.”

He gets another laugh for that, faint and almost breathy.  Kravitz is quiet in bed, mostly soft gasps and moans when Taako does something he likes, once or twice that bone-rattling rumble when Taako lays his blunt mortal teeth against Kravitz’s collarbone and bites down hard.  But then he does something a little unforgivable—laughs and says, “All right, darling.”

Taako’s heart stops in his chest, and his mouth comes down so hard on Kravitz’s that he thinks he might be bleeding from where his teeth hit his lip, but the kiss silences anything else Kravitz could say.

Kravitz seems taken off-guard when he comes, a little breath of _ah_ escaping his lips as he goes stiff and his mouth goes still under Taako’s.  His hand tightens around the pair of them, and Taako comes too, the world popping with white lights at the corners of his vision as he shudders through it.  The world seems to have narrowed down to Kravitz, his hand around Taako’s cock and his fingers in Taako’s hair, resting against his neck, the places where his skin is warm from contact, the taste of wine and magic on his lips.

By the time Taako comes back to himself, blurry and blinking, his head is bowed down to Kravitz’s shoulder.  The hand is still at the nape of his neck, looser now, lax, and Kravitz’s other hand is resting on Taako’s hip, thumb describing an arc over the line of the bone, like Kravitz is happy to just…lie there, feeling Taako’s weight on him and not doing a thing about it.  There’s a scar on Kravitz’s chest, just below Taako’s cheek, like someone put a spike through his heart—the only mark on him—and it makes Taako feel almost special to be so close to it, like Kravitz is sharing something with him.

Taako gives himself a few minutes of that, of the way Kravitz noses kisses into his hair and strokes gently over his skin.

It’s…nice.

 _Kravitz_ is nice.

Taako doesn’t let himself think about that anymore as he rolls to the side with a sigh and casts Prestidigitation to clean up.  He also doesn’t let himself think about the way Kravitz’s fingers lingered in his hair, or the soft warmth in those red-lit eyes.

“Thanks, bubbeleh,” Taako says, plastering on his best grin.  “Call me later, or whatever.”

Kravitz looks bemused.  Oh, fucking god, he’s actually going to make Taako kick him out.  “Taako?”

“This was fun, we should do it again sometime,” Taako says, ignoring the way that weight settles back into his belly, ignoring the way the back of his mind kind of wants to curl into Kravitz’s side with a blanket over them, ignoring the look of confusion shading to hurt on Kravitz’s face.  This was just sex.  Just physical.  There’s no reason for Kravitz to look like Taako’s personally cancelled Candlenights.

Kravitz seems to be getting the picture, though, because he slowly sits up, propped up on one hand.  “I—I can go,” he says, like there’s an offer there, rather than an implied outcome.  “If you want.”

“As opposed to what?”  Taako arches an eyebrow at him.  There’s a moment of silence as Kravitz studies him, his head cocked at an angle, trying to parse something, and Taako waves a languorous hand at him.  “It’s all right, thug, I’m not gonna take it personally.”

“I’m sorry,” Kravitz says, falling back into stiff formality, and he does a remarkably good job for someone still sitting naked in Taako’s bed.  The look of confused hurt has been erased, his face a politely emotionless blank.  “It’s been some time since I did this.  What are you not taking personally?”

Ah, right.  Kravitz has been a wandering skeleton bounty hunter since forever.  Culture clash or some shit.

“I knew what I was getting into,” Taako says, keeping his face cheerful.  “Just sex, right?  And don’t get me wrong, the sex was pretty fucking choice, I’m happy to do that again whenever you have a few hours free, but you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings or whatever.”

“Oh,” Kravitz says, quietly, and he stands, waves a hand, and his clothes sort of knit themselves back into being on his body, even his tie perfectly knotted at his throat. 

He tucks both hands into his pockets, straightening up until he looks as forbidding and untouchable as he did the first time they met, his eyes the only trace of any emotion as they linger on Taako’s face for a moment before they flicker away.  He bends down to catch Taako’s hand in his, and kisses the knuckles again—something lurches into Taako’s throat, words throwing themselves at his teeth from behind, some useless stupid _hey maybe you could stay, I could make you breakfast, did you know I’m a chef_ , and he bites them back mercilessly.

“If you ever need anything,” Kravitz says, still quiet, “call for me.”

And then he gestures for his scythe and tears open the world with the blade, and he’s gone.

Taako lies down on his back and stares at the ceiling.  This is the easy thing to do, this is what he knew was going to happen.  Hell, given the circumstances, this might even have been the _right_ thing to do.

So why does he feel like he just betrayed someone?

***

Taako’s not one for stewing.  He’s not one for sitting and brooding and worrying about his problems.  He’s a master of the art of taking any inconvenient emotion and kicking it off the nearest available cliff, never to be seen or considered again, because who has time for feelings, these days?  A Relic hunt would be _excellent_ right about now, some life-threatening shit to take his mind off everything, and by the time they got done being healed by someone other than Merle, he would have forgotten all about this.  He would be more focused on whether their fighter was finally going to kick the bucket—Taako needs a meat shield, all right, he’s a delicate little magic user, so if Magnus could live past the age of forty for Taako’s sake, that would be _amazing_.

Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a conveniently apocalyptic artifact surfacing any time soon.  If anything, things are calmer than usual, like the other two Relics are squirreled away in some dark dungeon rather than out causing trouble.  The mood on the base is bright and confident, riding high on their successful rescue of Refuge, totally lacking in the tension that usually precedes a recovery mission.  Carey and Killian and Noelle spend all their time bounding cheerfully through the halls like baby deer.  Johann cracked a smile and laughed at a joke last week.  There was a party on the quad.  Taako’s pretty sure he saw the Director _relaxing_.

It’s loathsome.

It’s three days before Magnus asks Taako what’s wrong.  Taako rebuffs him easily and pawns him off on Merle, but it sticks with him.  Magnus is an empathetic guy, but he’s not a genius, and Taako’s not supposed to have anything wrong to _ask_ about. 

Five days after hooking up with Kravitz, Taako finds himself in the Icosagon.  Training.

Taako does not _train_.  Beauty of Magic Missile: his aim doesn’t even _matter_.  Area effect spells are his bitch.  His ability to Fireball someone in the face is _entirely_ unrelated to his ability to do pushups, _Magnus_.  Wizards do not _train_ , they read some books and blow some shit up and call it a day.  Sometimes Taako deigns to do some actual calculations in order to maximize a spell’s efficacy, but that’s his limit.

So when Taako realizes he’s halfway through a short sword training form that he barely remembers, he stops and considers that he might need to actually take steps to deal with this situation.

It’s just…he keeps thinking about that quiet _oh_ as Kravitz stood up and it’s bothering him.  He’s not really sure _why_ it keeps coming to mind, but whenever he stands still and silent for a few seconds, it plays through his head like a Fantasy Vine, a handful of seconds that just don’t quite make sense.

Kravitz had gotten what he wanted, right?  Company, affection, a roll in the metaphorical hay.  So who the hell gave him _permission_ to look at Taako like that as he said _oh_ and stood up to leave, is the real question here.

In Taako’s experience, the only real solutions to his problem are to get incredibly drunk or to actually interrogate the man himself.  In theory he could also just _leave_ but avoiding the Grim Reaper sounds like it would require a bit more effort than just wandering off the side of the base.  Magnus and Merle would probably come try to hunt him down, regardless.

And if he’s being totally honest he’s already tried the alcohol.  Avi brings the good shit to company parties.

“Yo, Krav,” Taako says, casting Levitate on his Stone of Farspeech and giving it a flick to set it spinning.  He’s back in his room, with his feet propped up on a desk that has never seen a scrap of Bureau-mandated paperwork and never will, if Taako has anything to do with it.  “You busy, my dude?”

There’s a pause, long enough that Taako wonders if maybe Kravitz isn’t near the Stone, before a voice answers.

“Taako?”

Kravitz sounds hesitant, and there’s a lift at the end of Taako’s name that sounds like hope and kind of makes Taako want to throw the Stone across the room and run.

“Who else, bone boy?”

“What can I do for you, Taako?”  Kravitz’s voice goes steely, and he asks, “Are you in trouble?”

“What?  No!  I can go more than a week without getting sucked into some kind of weird timeline bullshit, fuck you very much, and plus I have a Magnus for solving trouble, it would be cruel to deny him the chance to…hit stuff.”  There’s a huff of amusement on the other end, and a quiet shuffling sound.  “Krav, thug, I really gotta ask, does the Grim Reaper do paperwork?”

“Of course I do paperwork,” Kravitz says, a little affronted.  “Do you know how much work it is to keep files on necromancers and liches and whatever the hell you three are?  Don’t you have to do paperwork for blowing up towns?”

“Magnus does paperwork,” Taako says, leaning his chair back on its rear legs.  “Sometimes I sign it if he asks real nice.  I dunno who does Merle’s shit.”

“I should have known.”  It sounds like Kravitz is smiling.  Taako’s chest heats a little, a piece of charcoal flickering into an ember, and shit, that’s not what he’s doing here.  “Also, it would be more accurate to call me _a_ Grim Reaper.”  The warmth in Kravitz’s voice fades, and the fire in Taako’s chest follows.  “Is there…did you—was there anything in particular that you wanted?”

“Yeah,” Taako says, and Magnus would be proud of him, he really would, because Taako just fucking _goes_ for it, just rushes right in before he can think better of it.  “You want to come by?  Like, are you free right now?  To come to the moon?”

“Sure,” Kravitz says, and there’s a rustling sound, papers being moved around, before the Stone shuts off. 

It’s barely a minute and a half later that the world rips open and Kravitz steps through, skin raveling itself into place over the smooth white bones of his skull and hands, his cloak fading away into his usual suit.  The rift closes behind him, and Kravitz is just standing there, hands in his pockets, looking unsure.

“Hey.”

“Hey, handsome,” Taako says, letting his chair thud back into place.  “You want to do something?”

“Something—like what?”  Kravitz isn’t an especially outgoing person, particularly since Taako’s major points of comparison these days are a proselytizing cleric and the most absurdly friendly individual he’s ever known, but he seems more guarded than before, almost like he’s expecting Taako to throw a spell at him again.  But he did come, when Taako called.

God, people were so much easier when Taako was younger.  He doesn’t really remember what changed—maybe doing the show made him overconfident—but he knows that when he was younger he never felt this clumsy and fumbling.

“Everything all right, Krav?” Taako asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Fine,” Kravitz says, and hesitates for a moment, and then he meets Taako’s gaze for the first time.  “I don’t want to sleep with you,” he blurts out, fast, all in a rush, like he’s been planning it.  “Or, I mean, no, yes, I do, but not—I don’t—I think you’re confused?  About this?”

Taako opens his mouth with a fast retort, then snaps it shut, because he’s…he’s not sure what Kravitz is expecting from him there.  He makes a little _go on_ gesture with one hand instead.

“I thought—I thought I had been pretty clear that your bounties have been suspended,” Kravitz says, rocking back on his heels like he wants to pace but doesn’t know if it would be permitted.  “And Refuge is a nonissue, we already talked about that, so unless you and your friends start doing necromancy in your free time, you’re not under my purview.  So—so I don’t want you to think that you’re making some kind of trade, here, with me, all right?”

“Some kind of—hang on, do people try to _seduce_ the Grim Reaper?  Wow,” Taako muses, “I’ve got to admire that kind of confident crazy.”

A smile, faint but genuine, flickers over Kravitz’s face.  “Every once in a while someone tries their luck.  Although having someone bypass any sort of seduction check and go straight for threats of tentacle porn, that was novel.”  The good humor fades, and Kravitz just looks tired and…lonely, Taako decides.  He’s spent a lot of his life feeling lonely, he knows what it looks like.  “And I don’t want you to be with me because—because you’re scared of me, or because you think I expect something in order to keep your bounties suspended, or--”

“That, um.  That actually didn’t occur to me,” Taako interrupts, because Kravitz seems more than ready to keep up his nervous ramble indefinitely.  A surge of guilt rushes through Taako’s chest at the open relief on Kravitz’s face, and he sighs.  “I just—I just figured this was a casual thing.  Company, sex, not much else, you know what I’m saying.”

“Is that what you want?” Kravitz asks, and the light behind his eyes brightens as he focuses on Taako, until Taako imagines that he can feel the weight of his stare, as cool and invulnerable as Kravitz’s hands around his scythe.  “Company and sex and nothing else?”

“Hey, you know me, Taako’s easy.”  Taako waves a hand dismissively.  “I’ll take whatever.  What about you, thug, what do you want?”

Kravitz looks distant for a moment, then sits down on the edge of Taako’s bed, so that they’re facing each other, closer to eye level. 

“I really like you, Taako,” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes Taako want to kiss him, or maybe cast Blink and escape to a whole other plane—except, of course, that Kravitz is Kravitz and could probably follow him.  “It’s been—it’s been a really long time since I had mortal friends, let alone anything else, and I wasn’t much good at this while I was alive, either.”

“With _that_ face?”  It’s wildly inappropriate given the tone, but oh _god_ Taako can’t help himself, there’s no way that Kravitz wasn’t absolutely spoiled for choice during his life.

Kravitz grins a little, reaching up to touch his cheek and jaw as if reminding himself of what he looks like.  “You’d be surprised.”

“Oh, I’d be fucking _shocked_ , homie,” Taako says thoughtlessly, one hundred percent of his brain fully occupied with Kravitz’s words.

 _I really like you, Taako._   What the fuck is a person even supposed to do with that.

“Taako,” Kravitz says, and Taako snaps back to the present moment.  Kravitz sounds like he’s maybe said Taako’s name a few times.  “I just—if you’re not interested in dating me, you don’t have to worry about telling me, but I’d rather you be honest.”

“Are you,” Taako says slowly, lining up the same thoughts he had before the date in a different order, “interested in dating _me_?”

Kravitz tips his head and says, “For someone so brilliantly talented, you can be a bit dense.”

“Thank you.”

“Taako, you’re charming, and beautiful, and funny, and you help save the world.  Of course I’m interested in dating you.”  Kravitz looks down at his hands, where they’re laced together in his lap, and he rubs a thumb up the line of a metacarpal, something that’s almost a nervous tick.  The pressure drags a line of white bone behind it, until his dark skin knits itself back together.  “I would understand, of course, if you’re looking for something more casual.  I’m just…I’m not built for it.”

God, Taako can’t deal with this.  This level of _honesty_ is going to make him break out in fucking hives.  The way Kravitz glances up at him through his lashes, a tiny spark of hope in the black of his eyes, is like taking a Magic Missile straight to the chest.

“So, what, you want to hold my hand and cuddle and shit?” Taako demands, and he means it to come out harsh, but instead it sounds almost fragile. 

“If that’s okay with you.”

Taako scoffs.  “You’re a fucking sap.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone,” Kravitz says.  “I have a reputation to maintain.”

And then he offers Taako his hand, palm up, harmless and inviting.  _I really like you, Taako_.  It’s been a long time since someone made an offer like that, and it went so horrifically wrong last time Taako accepted more than a one-night stand.

But Kravitz is nice.  And honest.  And he’s already tried to murder Taako and the others and then taken steps to make sure he doesn’t have to do it properly, which is a selling point, these days.  Half of everyone Taako knows has tried to murder them, by accident or as a test or just because the three of them were in the way. 

More than anything, though, Kravitz doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press, just sits there with his hand out as a silent offer, waiting for Taako to decide.

Kravitz’s hand is cold, still holding the chill of the astral plane.  Taako adds one more thing to his list of Grim Reaper Facts: his fingers fit perfectly with Taako’s.

**Author's Note:**

> In the event that any of you jumped fandoms with me here, I really am sorry to everyone who's been so nice about my other fics, particularly the Les Mis fics that have been on hold for (yikes) like a year and the Softer Animorphs series. I still do intend to go work on them some more, particularly the Animorphs, for which I have a handful of prompts half-complete, but it's just...it's been a lot lately. Everything has been happening a lot. Thank you all so much for your patience.
> 
> As ever, I am at [words-writ-in-starlight.tumblr.com](https://words-writ-in-starlight.tumblr.com) and you should feel absolutely free to come talk to me about TAZ.
> 
> EDIT: How is everyone in this fandom such a dream.


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